By Tardsie

In which amends cannot be made.

Note: Any comments about my headwear will rightly taken as an insult to my proud cultural heritage and an affront to the land of my fathers. And you should know that, historically, those people don’t take perceived threats well at all.

Poll finds fresh increase in US racism ~ Europe must really be laughing their heads off at us right now. Or they would be, anyway, if they didn’t still have seasonal race riots or if they’d ever voted a black dude to head the EU. So stick that in your stein and drink it, Fritz!

Obesity is a Bigger Problem Globally than Hunger~ Absolutely. A self-inflicted ‘epidemic’ that kills rich first-world folks over the course of decades is no less heinous than the sight of swole-bellied children starving to death under a fly-choked sky.

The Fact That You Will Never Have To Suffer Hypertension, Diabetes, Gout Or A Host Of First-World Maladies Should Put An End To Your Sense Of Entitlement And Also Help With Your Obvious Body-Image Issues.

By Smaktakula

We Not Only Believe In The Sanctity Of Individual Opinion, But Believe That Everyone Should Feel That Way.

On Happiness

Around the world, millions–and perhaps more likely, billions–of people are unhappy. Curiously, this appears to be no less true in the United States of America, which, for all its recent travails still remains a relative land of plenty when compared to to the standard of living “enjoyed” by many of our fellow humans. It is strange that this should be so, not simply because of America’s aforementioned affluence, but because no other culture in history has invested so much of its time, energy and resources in an as-yet fruitless quest for contentment.

There exist a great many theories to explain the first-world despair experienced by so many Americans, but the true causes are likely myriad. The effects of the nation’s increasingly frenetic rainbow-chase in search of fulfillment have been somewhat more tangible.

“School’s Out School’s Out / Teachers Let The Monkeys Out / One Was Jailed, One Prevailed / Both Asked God “How Have I Failed?”

As a consequence of this happiness deficit, two distinct, but inextricably-linked notions have become prevalent in the American psyche. The first is that unhappy people are somehow failures. The second, in typical, blame-the-victim fashion, contends that unhappy people are themselves responsible for the tragic emptiness in their lives.

Folks, we absolutely believe this. If you–who has so goddamn much–isn’t happy, then you are a failure. And your unhappiness? It’s your fault.¹

We’ll talk more about this later.

You Know You Want It.

***

We Know It Shouldn’t Matter, But…

We believe that if you’re telling someone a story about a dude named Leroy, and Leroy happens to be white, you need to apprise the listener of that fact early in the story. This will prevent the intracranial explosion which would otherwise occur when you say something like, “My buddy stood in line for fourteen hours to get us these playoff tickets, but you know Leroy–he’s crazy about hockey!”²

Likewise, If This Guy’s Name Is “Chip,” “Chase” or “Skippy,” You’ll Want To Devote A Little More Time To Exposition.

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We Could Not Be More Serious About This

We believe that an inverse, but very powerful, relationship exists between how seriously someone takes himself and how seriously he should be taken.

Ralph Nader, Whose Tireless Nagging Saved Countless Lives By Forcing The Automotive Industry To Design Safer Automobiles, Is In Many Ways Like A Condom. Like The Love-Glove, This Humorless Crusader Has Made Contemporary Life Unquestionably Safer Than In Years Past , While Simultaneously Stripping From It Much Of The Sensation Which Makes A Thing Worth Doing.

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Tardsie As A Patron Of The Arts

Tardsie writes:

One day, not long ago, when my boys and I were walking into town to get ice cream cones, we passed a homeless dude who chatted me up a little before asking for some change. He was friendly, and didn’t bother regaling me with some fantastic tale of hardship or earnest promises to use the money for saintly purposes (although I love a well-crafted tale), so I told him I’d get him on the way back.

My older boys are not quite five, and I gave them a dollar each to give to the dude as we passed him a second time–they got a kick out of that–and then we walked home eating our ice cream.

I didn’t really think twice about the encounter until I ran into the same homeless guy a few days later in the course of my own rambles about town. He told me he’d managed to scrape up enough cash to get his guitar out of hock. It turns out he plays beautifully.

We believe that was money well-spent.

This Might’ve Been The Guy, Actually.

***

Another Time-Travel Paradox³

We believe that when scientists finally manage to shatter the barriers to the 4th dimension, and time travel at last becomes a reality, its use will necessarily be confined to a select, responsible few. Due to the delicate, precise nature of the time-stream, its stewardship must be tasked to only the most conscientious, upright individuals.

And really, this is kind of a shame. With all the potential for using this technology irresponsibly to achieve godlike pinnacles of power and riches beyond all the dreams of avarice–along with power’s attendant benefits, such as more tail than one individual could bang in a lifetime–it seems an almost criminal waste to award it to such joyless sticks-in-the-mud.

Such An Awesome Power Must Never Be Entrusted To The Likes Of Us.

***

¹It should go without saying that we do NOT include in this assessment those individuals grappling with mental illness. We hold in high regard those folks saddled with conditions like clinical depression or who are bi-polar and yet bravely dust themselves off after each setback and gamely wade back into the fray. The courage implicit in your daily struggle outshines those instances of resolve in our own lives of which we are most proud; it is a beautiful and wondrous thing to witness. Be sure to take your meds. ∞ T.

² The genesis for this nugget of wisdom springs from a story my wife told me recently about a former co-worker of hers. However, in real life the instance of complete and total bafflement centered not around ice hockey, but country music. ∞ T.

³ Grammar-ninnies and vocabuladorks will be quick to point out our improper use of the word paradox. Nothing’s being done to the word that hasn’t been done to ‘irony’ for years now, so keep your panties on. Yeah, we ended that with a preposition. So what? Down is not the direction in which we will be backing! ∞ T.

By Smaktakula

"This Ain't The America I Know!"

We’ve come a long way in just one generation. It wasn’t so many years ago that the nation was buried from coast to coast in filth: trash subsumed parking lots, fields and empty spaces, with refuse festooned along telephone wires and garbage lining the sides of America’s highways. In recent years, wiser and more proactive voices have been heard, and the West has finally begun the slow march back from the garbage-choked precipice upon which it had found itself.

But our commitment to a cleaner environment comes with a price. While the majority of the population derives huge benefits from these changes in the form of better health and therefore a longer and more enjoyable life, the change in sensibilities has proven devastating for America’s forgotten citizens, who see a cherished way of life coming to an abrupt and painful end.

Some Nations Are Not So Hygienically-Inclined As Are Americans.

Ask yourself: who is left out in the cold by the culture’s ecological zeal? How about those fringers who make their living by digging shit out of the garbage? A plethora of half-eaten Chicken McNuggets and Subway sandwiches will ensure that they eat, but where will they find the money for fortified wine? Consider the middle-aged fellow who hangs out behind the Save-Mart, the dude with the running sore on his cheek who’s forever bickering with the invisible demons hunched upon his shoulders. Just what do you suppose this gentleman will do when he digs through a filthy dumpster only to discover you’ve taken your recycling in yourself? He’s not going to be very happy, we can tell you that much. He may even leave a turd on the hood of your car. Again.

Like it or not, unforeseen consequences attend every decision. While our newfound zeal for an orderly environment has unquestionably made the earth a more livable place for the majority, the homeless have seen a radical change to their time-honored way of life. Now, these plucky outdoorsmen must devote a greater share of their time not only to panhandling, but also to concocting a sufficiently heart-rending tale to accompany it.

By Smaktakula

We Didn't See This Coming, But You Must Admit, It Makes A Certain Sense.

Sometimes, all an industry needs to pick up its spirits is a new name. When airline stewardesses realized they weren’t being taken seriously, they became flight attendants, with all the glamour and prestige the name implies. Other industries were quick to follow; a secretary may have been prized for her shorthand skills and ability to fellate the boss, but an administrative assistant is a power-player within the company. It continues: doctors are now healthcare providers, street musicians are buskers and housewives are homemakers. Even bums have been jumped up to ‘homeless people.’

But at least one industry has thus far been left behind in the evolutionary progress of language: the sperm bank employee, those dedicated professionals for whom we jerk off into a cup. Not only is their job every bit as disgusting as the minimum-wage schlub who mops the floors at Bob’s Dirty Book Emporium, but theirs is a profession mocked and derided at every turn. Promethean Times believes that we can best honor these hard-working spunk-monkeys by calling them by a title befitting the dignity and prestige of their position. We suggest jizzmastre.

Yeah, It Tastes Funny, But It's Full Of Protein.

Look, if you can call the perky young thing at Starbucks a barista and still keep a straight face, jizzmastre shouldn’t be much of a stretch. ∞ T.